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AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



BY 



DOROTHEA LAWRANCE MANN 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 

BOSTON 



6 



-t 






K«5 



Copyright, 1919 

by 

THE CORNHILL COMPANY 



©CI.A535906 

NOV 29 1319 



TO MY MOTHER 



Some of these poems are reprinted here through 
the courtesy of the editors of the Century Magazine, 
The Poetry Journal, The Pathfinder, and the Boston 
Evening Transcript. The Browning poem appeared 
first in Mr. William Stanley Braithwaite's Browning 
Centenary page of the Boston Evening Transcript, 
and the last stanza of "Year of the Peace" appeared in 
his Peace Page. I thank these editors for permission 
to reprint these poems. 



CONTENTS 

In a Flower Shop i 

Candle-Glow 3 

Spring-Song 4 

If I Were a Summer Breeze 5 

Broken Lights 6 

Flower Worship 7 

The Eternal Dian 8 

The Ancient Soul 10 

To Browning 11 

Ports of Call 12 

To Imagination 13 

The Source 15 

Farewell 16 

Could I Forget 17 

The Eternal Quester 18 

Memories 21 

A Leaf on the Wind 22 

The Eyes that Laughed 23 

Above the Stars 25 

The Voice that Calls 26 

Tangled Web 2.y 

First Meeting 28 

Come Over the Silver Seas 30 

Beneath the Skies 31 

Pilgrim Love 32 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Sunset on the Ocean 33 

The Janus-House 34 

Bare Branches Against the Sunset ... 35 

Across the Deep 36 

The Mermaid's Call 37 

A Journey to the Sea 39 

Wind-Lure 40 

The Dream I Dreamed Before I Was Born . 41 

Ghosts 42 

Doom Magic 44 

To a Dead Poet 45 

Songs from a Drama 46 

Love was Clad in Green and Scarlet ... 49 

The New Day 50 

Gray Sea 52 

Year of Peace 53 

L'Envoi 56 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



IN A FLOWER SHOP 

Spring comes earliest in flower shops, 

Bringing windows riotous with bloom — 

Pink and yellow, white and blue, blossoms calling you ! 

And beyond the door you whiff the moist warm sweet 

odor 
Of Nature in her workshop. 

Will you have the purple violets 

With their heavy stifling fragrance, 

And the passion and perfection of their satin-sheen? 

They are meant to nestle close against the bosom 

Of a dream-rich woman whose soft firm fingers move 

among the petals 
While her dark eyes brood above them, — 
Warm and tender — with memories of you ! 

There is welcome in the fragrance of the roses. 
They are fit for glowing girlhood — 
To match the color in her cheeks 
And the swinging rhythm of her step. 
On tip-toe with excitement at the wonder of the world 
They will sway against a bosom — where they wake no 
memories ! 

[i] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

And then there is the orchid — fair exotic stranger. 

All contrary and wise, she holds herself aloof 

And waits the heavy-lidded woman with experience 

in her eyes — 
What they have to tell each other you and I will never 

know! 

See the riot of the tulips — 

Unfragrant, unmysterious, 

They grace the dinner table of a mother or a wife. 

Beyond the flashing tulips stand the yellow jonquils. 
Nothing else has ever caught so fearlessly the color of 

the sun. 
They always seem to whisper 
A merry little tune of happy days to come. 
So buy them for their glowing gold — and forget them 

in an hour! 

But come into the flower shop if only for a moment, 
And drink deep of all the colors of the spring! 
Open wide your nostrils 
And inhale the mellowed fragrance of a dozen different 

flowers mingling in the warm damp room. 
Just come into the flower-shop and — laugh — 
For spring is here ! 



:»] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



CANDLE-GLOW 

Between the twilight and the dark 

A spark 

Of glowing candle light 

Seems to hold back the rush of night — 

The brooding of imperious wings 

Which swallow up the daylight things. 

The candle's golden beams 

Ray themselves out in thread-thin streams 

And lose themselves in the great dark, 

Where voices hark 

Hover and quiver in the night, 

Drawn to the light 

By that onrushing impulse of Desire 

Which draws its own into its heart of fire. 



[3] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



SPRING-SONG 

Spring! and all the passion of the spring 
Like the song of wine along the blood, 
All the ache of beauty trembling at flood, 
Tip-toe while the first birds sing. 

Spring! and we who watched a thousand springs 

Dawn and die upon some distant star, 

Know the old thrill straining at bar, 

Taste the mad joy every springtime brings. 

Spring! and we who loved those other springs, 
Feel the throbbing of the blossoming earth 
Wake the world and us to radiant rebirth, 
Touch our dreams to wild white visionings. 



[4] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



IF I WERE A SUMMER BREEZE 

If I were a summer breeze, 
And I kept the self-same heart, 

I would seek the soft pine trees 
To speak with my love apart. 

I would seek you here at dawn, 
And follow you home at night, 

Till the breeze in the pine trees born, 
Should flutter your candle light. 

I would whisper into your ears, 
Tales that my ears had known, — 

For I'd come from strange lands and years, 
On the breath of centuries blown — 

I would speak my tale in your heart, — 

Though I were only a breeze, 
And you the beauty of all the world, 

Caught beneath these old pine trees. 



[5] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



BROKEN LIGHTS 
[for Lawrence Bacon Mann] 

Glories there are too high for our forgetting, 
Who love the deeps and know the morning star, 

Times when each mortal sun draws to its setting, 
And only the eternal beauties are. 

Moments of wonder deep and unregretting, 
That glimpse a radiance visioned from afar. 

Like broken lights they fade into a spark — 
On memory's dark. 

Lost splendors ever mock the eyes that wait. 

We who must travel strange and lonely seas, 
Have battled with weak hands forbidding fate, 

Knowing the comfort of stray lights like these, 
Then with rekindled hopes, though worn and late, 

Have dared strong tempests for our love's release. 
What though the moment fade, it leaves a spark — 
To light our dark. 

But broken lights! We hail them with misgiving, 
Who long for some sure steady perfect sun, 

But broken lights ! yet all our longest living 
Gathers but scattered fragments of the one 

Vast light — forever and forever giving 

Its broken radiance till earth's course is run, 

When all these lights flash to a glowing spark — 
Banishing all dark. 

[6] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



FLOWER WORSHIP 

I would not pluck a single flower, 

Spoil by the fraction of an hour 

Its perfect prayer. 

I see it pressing from the sod, 

Stretching weak fingers up to God, 

And know 

I too push upward to the light, 

Thrusting through shadows dark as night, 

With blinded eyes, 

Less single-hearted than the flower 

That for an hour 

Of exquisite expression, lives and dies. 



[7] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE ETERNAL DIAN 

Lo the huntress — 

Breasting the gale she comes, her long hair beating 

down the wind, 
She leaves the hills behind, 
While the wet grasses of the valleys greet 
The pressure of the sandalled feet, 
Then she is gone into the dawn, 
On, Dian, on! 

Far on the huntress flees. 

The encircling trees 

Stretch forth caressing fingers to the goddess — 

She beats them to their knees, 

And on she flees 

Leaving the dawn behind. 

What god or mortal can outrun Dian? 

They follow as she flees 

With hard keen sinews through the world — 

The light skirt swirled, 

Is tight against her knees. 

Swifter than light she flies, 

Panting and eager to appease 

The passionate dissatisfaction in her eyes. 



[8] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Up, up to the mountain height 

She races with the light, 

Spurning the rocky sod 

Which trembles at the footsteps of the god. 

The huntress flees 

Down the deep valleys, by the sounding seas, 

Lonely, unsatisfied, she flees, 

Eternally she flees. 

The little ardent trees 

Would kiss the impatient hand; 

Upon their knees 

Men list an echo on a light wind fanned. 

Impatient, tireless, alone — 

Huntress and hunted, Dian flees. 

Who, who can hope to appease 
The hunger which a goddess flees? 



[9] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE ANCIENT SOUL 

For it was the ancient soul in him . . . and to deny 
it was to deny life itself . . . And along this path 
he really believed at the moment his little human will 
could hold him firm. 

Algernon blackwood in "The Lost Valley." 

Before the stars had lit the sky 

Or Time begun its span, 
There rose from the deeps of Chaos 

The Ancient Soul of Man. 
It walked with God in the garden 

On this our earth's first day, 
And the secret words that it learned from God 

Have lived in its heart alway. 

It is older than stars or suns, 

It has looked to the end of Time, 
And watched the elder races fail, 

While it mused on the Great Sublime. 
It broods in a mystic ecstasy — 

But ever again in a man 
The Ancient Soul will rise full tide 

If his deeds would wreck the Plan. 



[10] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



TO BROWNING 

Master, about whose laurelled head, the years 
Fame's fairest, brightest aureole have bound, 
We, too, within the fading century's round 

Would tribute bring thee in thy starry spheres — 

Love of our hearts, and all our gladdening fears, 
We bring to thee, our master-warrior, found 
Triumphant in life's battles, — victor crowned 

By voice of all earth's poets and her seers. 

O magic builder, through the strong-winged song — 
Thy pinions sweeping farthest deeps of air- 
Living still, thy soaring spirit sways, 
Like a breath of fire that stirs, a throng 
Of counseling actions, making fair 

Body and spirit through man's length of days, 



In 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



PORTS OF CALL 

Here is a Port of Call. 

Here for a day the home-sick mariner 

Remembers fitfully the living flame. 

Here from his oft-recurring voyagings he rests. 

Darkly at first — 

He scarcely feels at home on land, 

Or sees the hands outstretched in greeting. 

Yet sometimes finds he one within whose eyes 

He reads dim recognition, 

And then outleaping in pure joy 

He seeks the steps they two have trod, — 

And fails to find, is lonely to the end — 

Until the impelling Spirit breathes him home again- 

To send him forth upon fresh journeyings. 



[12; 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

TO IMAGINATION 
[Suggested by maxfield parrish's "Air Castles''] 

O beauteous boy a-dream, what visions sought 

Of pictures magical thy eyes unfold, 
What triumphs of celestial wonders wrought, 

What marvels from a breath of beauty rolled! 
Skyward and seaward on the clouds are scrolled 

A mystic imagery of castled thought, 
A thousand worlds to lose, — or win and mold, — 

A radiant iridescence swiftly caught 
Of ever-changing glory, fancy- fraught. 

Blue wonder of the sea and luminous sky, — 

A thousand wonders in thy dreamlit face, — 
Eyes that beheld afar the turrets high 

Of Illium, and the transient mortal grace 
Of Deirdre's sadness, all the conquering race 

Of Athens, — eyes that saw Eden's beauty lie 
In passionate adoration — visions trace 

Across the tender brooding of the sigh 
That wrecked a city and made chieftains die. 

Forward not backward turns the mystic shine 
Of those far-seeing eyes that track the gleam — 

The fleecy marvel of the cloud is line 
On line the wizard tracery of a dream. 

[13] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

O lad, who buildest not of things that seem, 
Beyond what bounds of visioning divine 

Came that far smile, from what long-strayed sunbeam 
Caught thou the radiance, from what fostering vine 

The power to build and mold the deep design? 

Knowest thou the secret that thy brush would tell, 

Is all the dream a bubbled splendor white, 
Beyond those castles cloud-bound, does there dwell 

The eternal silence of the dark — or light? 
Will thy hand hold the pen which shall indict 

The symbolled mystery — write the final knell 
Of rainbow fancy — is the distant sight 

A nothingness encircled by the spell 
Of gleaming bubbles wrought of beauty's shell? 

In vain to question, where the mystery 

Of Youth's short golden dream is lord and king. 
The eyes that farthest gaze in ecstasy, 

Were never meant to paint the immortal thing 
They see, nor understand the joy they bring. 

The misty baubles of the sky and sea 
Sail on. Dream still, bright-visioned boy, and fling 

The glittering mantle of thy thoughts that flee, 
Weaving us evermore thy shining pageantry. 



14] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE SOURCE 

Come forth, my spirit, from thy hiding place! 

Casting aside the tyranny of mortal dreams, 

Roam free from every barrier of earth, 

And draw thyself through thy supreme desire 

Back to the Source. 

Stretch forth thy wings until they break the mold, 

Then leap toward thy desire, 

Until— 

Through parting boundaries of stars and space 

The measureless great One appears 

In ocean vastness and rich silences, — 

Deep-bosomed, with upholding arms of power. 

Then — through the parted essences let leap 

The undivided flame ! 



15] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



FAREWELL 

In memory of 

MARGARET WHITNEY MEARS 

Farewell! Farewell! The billows break 
On distant deeps and shores descending. 

Farewell ! Farewell ! From life awake 
And know that friendship hath no ending. 

Within those radiant realms of sleep, — 

That sleep whose portals thou dost sunder, — 

Dreamless, unwearied, thou shalt keep 

Guard o'er our souls that watch and wonder. 

Farewell ! Farewell ! The night is dark 
And low the distant bells are tolling. 

Farewell! Farewell! Far speeds thy bark, 
Nor harbors where the waves are rolling. 

Safe in the port, the sail drops low, — 
The mariner of tides heeds never, — 

But from thy prow a light shall flow 
To guide our storm-tossed craft forever! 



[16] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



COULD I FORGET 

Could I forget — here, where all fair green things 
Are springing forth in new ecstatic birth 
From out the mystic, girding heart of earth; 

Where as of old, the swirl of growing wings, 

So hourly now, a fuller gladness brings; 
Where wavelets breaking into new-born worth, 
Lap our blue-girded shores with silvery mirth, 

Till all my being for their beauty sings. 

Forget? Nay, I remember joy and tears, 

The sweetness of swift laughters that are past, 
And all our wondrous treasure trove of dreams. 
I feel again the pulsing of the years, 
I live each moment dearer than the last, 

For me once more each star-like memory gleams. 

Wellesley, July, ipu. 



17] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

THE ETERNAL QUESTER 

In memory of 

SOPHIE JEWETT 

God fashioned at the first one poet-soul, 

Then broke it into iridescent bits. 
Each mirroring the clear image of the whole. 

He scattered them, so that one master sits 
Amid sweet concord, while another knits 

His art with mythic Orpheus — first to sing. 
Our western world a host of songs admits, 

But waits its greatest. Was it thine to bring? 
Didst thou forgo the wondrous beauty of this thing? 

One poet-soul and thou art of that one! 

Thy part-withholden message must be told. 
No atom can be lost. Each deed is done 

For which a dream was dreamed. Songs must unfold, 
Though strangled, helpless, pleading, in the mold. 

Some other world will win what earth has lost, 
Unless it chance thou seek'st again thine old 

And once-loved earth — a pilgrim soul, fate-tossed, 
Daring thy Paradisal memories to accost. 

So haps it sometimes that the old Earth wins 
A bright chance angel to redeem its worth. 

Some voyageur to another world begins 

New life. Should we know thee in such rebirth? 
[18] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Or in some other sphere should find a dearth 

In immortality, knowing no sign 
Of recognition for the loved on earth? 

Or are our starved half-memories made divine 
And crystaline, escaping the dulled dust's confine? 

Here was thy soul a white, fleet, glowing fire. 

We saw as through a dome of prismed glass — 
Reflecting myriad loves, joy, hope, desire — 

We watched as in a dream thy earth-self pass, 
And watching, understood not half, alas! 

One chance is ours, if knowledge may not be — 
Will not the burthen of thy songs amass 

Their old time sweetness and the melody 
Of these thou sang'st ere thou outgrew mortality? 

Thou wert our morning star. Shadows may hide 

Thy footsteps and thy voice from Echo's ears, — 
Faint Echo ! but we know thou dost abide 

Unchanging here. Through swiftly fleeing years 
We seek thee on these paths. Loved Memory rears 

The music of thy golden voice which calls 
Our hearts to dream, rouses to happy tears. 

On curving tender lips the sunlight falls — 
The self-same sunlight filtering through these same 
old halls! 

Thou art not gone ! Thy spirit cannot die ! 

And we who knew its splendor in old days, 
The mighty powers of Time and Change defy, 

And seek thee here amid familiar ways. 

[19] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Remembered beauties of thy soul could raise 

The burden of our dust-dimmed thoughts to worth 

Of dearer life. We vainly seek fit praise — 
Who drew from thee our aspirations' birth 

Shall ever thy memory changeless keep on earth! 



20 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



MEMORIES 

I walk the old-time way 
Your feet have trod, 

Beneath the snows today 
Tall tulips nod. 

As once along this way 

I saw your face, 
So by each ice-bound tree 

Your smiles I trace. 

Remembering our joy 

That other day 
When you and I together 

Walked this way. 



[21] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



A LEAF ON THE WIND 

Borne from the heavens, a leaf on the wind, 

Blown o'er the treetops and blown to the ground, 
Swept to your heart and about it entwined, 

Quivering and trembling with infinite sound. 
Wind- free and flame-bright and breathless — a fire 

Blown up and down the great vast of the world, 
Tortured and twisted with blazing desire, 

Like a star from the heavens, fate-driven, earth- 
hurled. 
Take me and shape me — a breath of the light! 

Make me a reed for the winds, life-sweet, — 
Impelled from the heights and the depths in flight, 

Blown on the whirlwind, blown to your feet. 



22] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE EYES THAT LAUGHED 

[FOR CHARLES EDWARD MANN] 

Two gods of infinite dreams, you smile 
On the pomp of man in the glow of his pride, 
From your pictured face I can scarce decide 
Of your purpose — to scorn or to beguile, 

The while 

As you smile 
You seem to say — "Once I rode 
With the conquering Greeks to Ilion town, 
And saw the Spartan queen look down 
From the walls, where a battled chieftain strode." 
Can you tell me the thoughts of her they seek, 
Is she glad to flee from Ilion town, 
Does she mourn the past and its dark renown, 
And long for the arms of the conquering Greek? 

O eyes that smile in that pictured face, 
Can you tell me the secret I long to know, 
That is writ in the whirling streams that flow 
From the heart of the mountains in wildest race? 

From the grace 

Of the pictured face 
You answer me once again — "I have known 
The soul of a rose, and I have seen 
The fire in the eyes of Caesar's queen — 
Such things change not though years have flown. 

[23] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

The drowsy lull of the slow Nile stream 

Is one with the sun-bright waves that dash 

At dark Tintagel's base, the flash 

Of the singing stars in their first swift gleam.' 

Sphinx who dwells in those eyes serene, 
Can you answer your riddle I long to learn — 
Reveal the dream in your eyes that yearn, 
Your eyes that laugh for the vision seen? 

From the mien 
Of those eyes serene 
My question is answered now — "I quaff 
All wine, the rose and the star are mine, 
The mountain secret, the growing vine, 

1 love all little things that laugh ! 
'Beauty is truth', not all I say, 

From Helen's eyes and the heart of the rose 
And the singing stars the secret grows — 
The whence and whither of the way." 



[24] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



ABOVE THE STARS 

O God thy hand in pity lay 

On sorrow-quivering scars, 
And keep in tenderness, we pray, 

Our love above the stars. 

In memory's hand, our hands we place, 
Nor turn from Love's sad eyes, 

But bravely, gladly, seek to trace 
Our dream beyond the skies. 

Our dream, once ours in thoughtless days, 

Immortal, winged afar, 
Now beacons us, eternal ways, 

Blazing, beyond each star. 



25] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE VOICE THAT CALLS 

There's a voice that calls 

And I must go. 
The twilight glimmers, 

The lights are low. 
Out of the dark 

There's a voice that calls, 
Across my dreams 

A shadow falls. 

Smiles that beckon 

And eyes that weep, 
The winds to blow 

My dreams a-sleep. 
Roses for love, 

And stars for light — 
And ever the voice 

Across the night. 

The twilight glimmers 

The lights are low — 
There's a voice that calls 

And I must go — 
Over the mountains, 

Across the sea — 
Wherever the voice 

Shall call to me. 

[26] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



TANGLED WEB 

Tangled web of dreams and fears, — 

Life's a world set flying — 
Half the woof of joy is tears — 

Spirits laughing, spirits sighing. 
Take the starshine and the night, 

Weave a web of rapture, — 
Loose the tears and take delight 

In the joys you capture. 



27] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



FIRST MEETING 

The first time that I saw her with the light upon her 

face, 
Then I began to love her and to long for her embrace. 
The way her eyes would twinkle and the curling golden 

hair, 
The dimple in her left cheek, and the dainty winsome 

air 
When she felt my eyes upon her and she turned her 

head away, 
Would set my heart a-beating and a-longing for that 

day 
When my arms should meet around her and no man 

should say me nay! 

Most every day I sought her in the garden or the town, 
And how her eyes would sparkle, with their gray all 

flecked with brown, 
And the long dark curling eyelash would just caress 

her cheek, 
Lest I should see the welcome that her lips would never 

speak ! 
O my little bashful sweetheart, I never can forget 
Till the stars shall fade from heaven and the sun for 

aye be set, 
That golden August morning and the first time that 

we met ! 

[28] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

There were other happy mornings but no one was 

quite like this, 
When the sun shone bright upon her and my own lips 

longed to kiss 
Those pretty smiling lips of hers, and make the roses 

play 
Amid the damask of her cheek like peach blooms swept 

astray 
By the truant winds of springtime! Oh, that hour 

shall never fade 
From the tablets of my memory, and when I in dust 

am laid 
My closed eyes still shall see her and the picture that 

she made ! 

That day has long time faded and my love has gone 

away! 
Still in my dreams I meet her as on that August day — 
The sun shines warm upon her and about her little 

feet 
The goldenrod and asters press — the summer breeze 

is sweet 
With the fragrance of a rose that blooms behind a 

garden wall — 
I press her little hand in mine, and when her fingers 

fall 
So real the dream becomes to me, I hear the robins call. 



[29] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



COME OVER THE SILVER SEAS 

Come over the silver seas to me, 

I am calling, calling; 
And bring thy heart of gold with thee, 

For the leaves are falling. 

Here in the woodland where I dwell, 

Birds are singing, 
Not half so sweet as thoughts of thee 

Round my heart a-clinging. 



[30] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



BENEATH THE SKIES 

Before me you glimmer and dance, dear, 

In the rain that descends on the leaves, 
There's a cry of heartbreak in your glance, dear, 

That answers my heart as it grieves; 
And out through the mist of the morning, 

In the sunlight that's calling the plain, 
You shine in the gleam of the dawning — 

A sunbeam that follows the rain. 

Then down through the dusk of the gloaming, 

You smile in the first flashing star; 
And call me to far fields of roaming 

On the pinions of winds from afar; 
But always 'tis you whom I see, dear, 

In the heart of the world that I know, 
And so 'tis your voice it must be, dear, 

To guide me wherever I go. 



[31) 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



PILGRIM LOVE 

Love has wandered through the land, 
Worn the garb of every art, 

Conqueror been and serf in band, 
Trickster, pled in every heart! 

But today he stands alone, 

Cheerless by an old hearth stone. 

Why is Love a suppliant spurned, 
Where once he reigned gay king? 

Why is Love a palmer turned, 
Whose wont to dance and sing? 

Is the world grown gray and old, 

That he shivers from the cold? 

Love has lost his fief and realm, 
There's another reigns today — 

Golden-cloaked from spur to helm, 
Where King Love of old held sway. 

Harp and sceptre flung aside, 

Pilgrim Love afar doth ride. 

Seeks he now and seeks tomorrow, 
One will list his old-time tale, 

Pleading low in pain and sorrow, — 
Pilgrim-clad, — without avail, 

For Love's fiefmen, hoar and old, 

Cast themselves before King Gold. 

[32] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



SUNSET ON THE OCEAN 

O the sunset and the ocean, 

And skies at eventide, 
All the world one ceaseless motion, 

And oh, the world is wide ! 

Just to forget and pause and dream- 
While winds and tides flow far — 

Then to remember all the gleam 
Of your first evening star. 

And while the tide is ebbing fast, 
To let the years take flight, 

And in the farthest cloud — at last 
Find your first heaven of light. 

For the waves and every sunset, 
And the misty twilight dew, 

And every twinkling star have met- 
To bring this dream to you ! 



[33] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE JANUS-HOUSE 

There is a road which I remember well. 

Red raspberries grew beside it, 

And stunted blueberries in the dust-stained grass. 

The sky was fretted with dark larches 

Except where — here and there — 

A rock-strewn field ran downward to a rocky shore. 

The sky seemed always bright cold blue, 

Daubed with a countless pother of foam colored clouds. 

I remember the rising of white dust in billows 

When a wagon rattled by. 

Clearest in my memory 

An old moth-eaten house stands just at the road's 

turn — 
So the house could look both ways. 
It sheltered a gray, toothless crone whose smile had 

grown into a leer. 
My eyes were never weary watching that road's turn, 
Nor I of wondering what lay beyond — 
For all of life — romance and destiny — might lie just 

round the turn ! 
Whichever way I walked the road 
My eager thoughts leaped to the turn of it. 
God, how I pitied the Janus-house, which knew no 

mystery waited just beyond a turn! 



[34] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



BARE BRANCHES AGAINST THE SUNSET 

Cross and cross and cross again, 

Triangles, rectangles, squares, 

With here and there a curve which ends beyond the 

earth. 
You fret a sky faint as the halo of some old Italian 

angel. 
Nature's uneven network, 

Your hard blackness cuts the pale aura of our earth. 
The radiance is — and is not — 
And the network is. 



[35] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



ACROSS THE DEEP 

You are gone, and now no more 
Wind or cloud or setting sun, 

Touch you to the joy of yore, — 
Your race is run. 

Out of all you loved and knew, 
All I heard you do or speak, 

Is there nothing now to rue, 
No one to seek? 

When you call across the deep, 

Is there none whose answer blows, 

Wafted through the lids of sleep, 
Whence no dream flows? 



[36] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE MERMAID'S CALL 

Far in the depths of the star-strewn deep 

I hear the call, 
Where mermaids weep o'er the eyes that sleep 

Forgetting all. 

The moon hangs low o'er a silver sea 

With its rise and fall, 
The tumbling waves flow over me 

And I hear the call. 

Slowly it rises from distant lands — 

Breath of the sea — 
With tones that lure and outstretched hands 

It is calling me. 

Deep and vast it is gathering strength, 

As sea-winds fly, 
Till the sky reverberates through its length 

With the mighty cry. 

The stars bend low to caress the wave — 

Blending sea and sky — 
In heaven or earth is naught can save 

Me from that cry ! 

[37] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

For from the depths of the star- strewn deep 

I hear the call, 
Where mermaids weep o'er the eyes that sleep, 

Forgetting all. 



[38] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE JOURNEY TO THE SEA 

/ would sail upon the ocean, 

So I hurry from the hills, 
For my heart has felt its motion, — 

With a mighty answer thrills! 
And I throb and hurry faster 

In my journey to the sea, 
For my heart has heard its master — 

In the voice that's calling me. 

There is nothing in the hill towns 

Like the glamour of the sea, 
I've flowed 'neath icy mountain crowns, 

Mirrored many a flower and tree; 
Birds have called me with their songs, 

Trees and flowers have beckoned me,- 
Still my dreaming heart belongs 

To the music of the sea. 

From the night-time till the morning, 

From the mountains to the sea, 
I am coming through the dawning 

To the voice that's calling me. 
Through the meadows, fast and faster 

I have hurried, glad and free, 
Till at last I meet my master 

In the sunlight on the sea. 

[39] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



WIND-LURE 

The wind's a soul on fire, 
Deep-tortured in days gone by — 
With a rose-red dream of desire 
Once born from a drifting sigh. 
Now it's an endless crying, 
Wailing through many nights, — 
A-blowing wan spirits, flying 
To be scattered in glittering lights. 
By blazing desire, hard-driven, 
Whirled through the listening abyss — 
To bear in its heart who have given 
Their souls to its long wild kiss. 

My soul and the wind's soul, one in one. 

My soul to the wind's soul, since life begun! 



[40] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE 
DREAM I DREAMED BEFORE I WAS BORN 

There's a dream I dreamed before I was born, 

That troubles my soul unceasingly, 
With a sense of half -remembered splendor, 

A flash of sunlight, a glimmer of sea, 
The rain that comes clouding the April meadow, 

The rose that I picked ere its perfect glory — 
The shadows that haunt the dreaming days 

Like the visioned end of a half told story. 

There's shadow broods in the autumn air, 

And darkens the light of the winter morn, 
For the loss of that shining, flame-kissed vision — 

The dream I dreamed before I was born. 
Out of a glory, I cross the dark, 

Seek the wonderful dream once more, 
That troubles me still with remembered beauty, 

I knew on some strange and mist-wrapped shore. 



[4i] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



GHOSTS 

The wind blows in with bitter chill, 
The dank fog comes from the sea — 

The ghosts that wander over the hill, 
Are they one or two or three? 

The church bell rings with solemn sound, 
Noiselessly shakes each bare-boughed tree, 

And they who walk in weary round, 
Are they one or two or three? 

I sit and hear each dashing wave, 
While the heart grows cold in me — 

To watch them, tall and still and grave, 
Those one or two or three. 

To feel the quiet tread of feet 

To the ebbing beat of the sea, 
As waves roll on and ghosts repeat 

Their dreary march of three. 

A thousand lights glance from the land, 

And glimmer beneath the sea, 
But only the moon shines on that band, 

With its endless procession of three. 

There's one who always goes before, 
One follows him swift and free, 

[42] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

And there's one that lingers evermore, 
On their path to the hill from the sea. 

The moon is low, the morn is chill, 
A dim fear masters the heart of me, 

Watching those wanderers over the hill, 
Be they one or two or three. 

Will they come tonight and a thousand nights, 
When the wind blows salt from the sea, 

Will they wander up the bare-browed hill — 
One ghost or two or three? 



[43] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



DOOM MAGIC 

O doom is in the air, 

And fate is on the sea — 
And sorrow, sorrow, sorrow 

Is in the heart of me. 
For oh, the winds blow south, 

And oh, the winds blow north, 
And what of the magic dreamers, 

What of the star and moth? 

Rosy gleams in the sky, 

Silver foam on the sea, 
And golden are the dreams 

In the heart of me. 
Misty is the starlight. 

Faded is desire — 
Gone are all the visions, 

Spent in windy fire. 

Fate upon the moon rides, 

Doom rises from the sea, 
And scatters all the dreams 

From out the heart of me. 
For oh, the winds blow north, 

And oh, the winds blow south, 
And Destiny comes smiling — 

With a rose-red mouth. 

[44] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



TO A DEAD POET 

O golden tongue, silenced these many years, 

The magic of thy utterance must last, 

Though thou hast rent the mystic veil and passed 
Through the low portal, down the road of tears. 
The long slow agony, the numbing fears 

Forgot, still sounds thy ringing, shVry blast, 

Smiting deaf ears of men long years bound fast 
By earthern shackles — till the Dawn appears. 

Out of the Dawn he came, a glorious might 
From veiled darkness, bearer of a torch 

To light the path down which he passed and bring 
One ray — a long fair arrow of white light — 
To rouse the sons of men, to toil and watch 

The roseate East, where still vast wonders cling! 



[45] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

SONGS FROM A DRAMA 

I 

Through the gray billows I'm sliding, 
In blue-green shadows I'm hiding, 
Swiftly to you I am gliding — 
Merman, I come to thee! 

Watch how my gold hair is glowing, 
Through the dark waves it is flowing, 
Where deep-sea breezes are blowing — 
Sweetheart, I come to thee! 

Round you each gold hair is twining, 
In their warm depths your eyes shining — 
Eyes for my own eyes' divining, 
Heart of my heart, I come! 



II 



Far in the deeps of the ocean caves, 

Where silence sleeps 'neath the heart of the waves, 

My love and I shall dwell. 
Red are the gleams of the sunset sky 
Shall pierce our dreams of joys that die 

Where my love and I shall dwell. 

[46] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Come with me there to my ocean home, 
Leave dark care to the glittering foam — 

Come to the deeps with me! 
Safe from alarms, you shall know bliss, 
Rest in my arms, capture my kiss, — 

Come to the deeps with me! 



Ill 



Bane of the seas, bane of the seas, 
Why are we born with dreams like these — 
A greedy hunger that burns my breast, 
That drives me to you and will not rest. 
Go back, go back to your birds and trees — 
I am bane of the seas, bane of the seas ! 



IV 



Love is a wind, love is a fire, 

Love is a terrible thing, 
A breath of song, and a wild desire, 

Love is a terrible thing. 
Winds may ruffle the topmost wave, 

Birds in the sky may sing, — 
But there rises a wind no man can brave, 

When love is on the wing! 

[47] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Love is a wind, love is a fire, 
Love is a voice that sings, 

The whole world brought to the brink of desire- 
But swift-borne love has wings! 

Only a voice that calls from the deep, 
When love is on the wing — 

A cry, a silence, and then a sleep, — 
Love is a terrible thing! 



[48] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



LOVE WAS CLAD IN GREEN AND SCARLET 

Love was clad in green and scarlet 

When he wandered 'cross the wold, 
But the god came back at night time 

With his scarlet all pure gold. 
And the green he wore at morning 

Had been turned to saffron bright, 
When weary-hearted Love crept home 

To rest him through the night. 

Love came home sad-eyed and sighing 

From his wandering 'cross the wold, 
All his green and scarlet garments 

Changed to match a heart grown cold. 
But the Love who came sad-hearted, 

Clad in glamour and in gleam, 
Kept his memory green and scarlet, 

While he scorned the golden dream. 



[49] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



THE NEW DAY 

Now at last the Word is spoken which shall echo till 

Time's end, 
Even now its deep reverberations have reached the 

troubled stars, 
And the air is all aquiver with an eagerness, to mend 
The anguish of the old earth's scars. 



Such a silence as has fallen the grim world has seldom 
known, 

For at last the guns are quiet and the sound of march- 
ing feet 

Has ceased to stir the midnight air — the wind along 
the old roads blown 

Has suddenly grown strange and sweet! 



In the heart of that rich silence we can guess what 

hosts must wait — 
How the Spirits of the Battlefield have gathered close 

tonight — 
We almost felt their eager breathing as the long slow 

sword of Fate 
Flashed and flashing, vanished into light. 



[50] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Such a light as fills one's dreaming, full of healing 

for the soul, 
A light of peace which shines across dark thresholds 

and where a promise clings — 
While the Spirits of the Battlefield who paid the last 

sad toll, 
Shall guard the gloaming of the kings. 



[51 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



GRAY SEA 

There's a gray, gray sea, 
And a gray, gray sky, 
And a line where the two have met, 
When over the waters quietly, 
A silence broods that is stern and high- 
Over the earth when the sun is set. 

O silent majestic sea, 

O wonderful silent sky, 
And blue-gray light on the beach; — 
Is a god at the heart of your mystery, 
Does he speak in that long low cry 

That is ecstasy out of reach? 



[52] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



YEAR OF PEACE 

There was a time, though long ago it seems, — 

A feeble score if you will count in years — 

When all men built a great high house 

To hold a rare and precious thing. 

They guarded it with high strong words 

And prided them that they had had the wit 

To find this precious thing and shut it within doors. 

They laughed a little boldly, proudly, 

To think that they had captured Peace, 

And clipped its wings and branded it their own — 

Peace, the long-sought, elusive darling of the ages. 

"Now we have captured Peace," they cried, 

Never again will we have wars!" 

Then when within a few years' space 

Quarrels broke out and one or two among them 

Left the others guarding Peace and fought among 

themselves, 
The greater guardians still smiled on, content, 
And let them have their sport, like idle boys, 
Feeling the majesty of their great charge 
At will, could make the broiling cease. 

So while they paid their lazy court 

And gloated on the treasure of their house 

The thief broke in and stole their Peace away 

[S3] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

And carried it to unknown lands and hid it darkly, 
And they beheld the mockery of their empty house, 
Feeling the house itself tremble and all its walls 
Shake with despair. 

They roused to find themselves at war, little and great, 

And all their high-prized glory was as naught. 

Those bitter, bitter years of war — 

When the great beasts were loosed upon the world, 

Wallowing in the blood and ruin which they wrought, 

And the old virtues and the old sins came again, 

Wasting the earth and men almost forgot to hope. 

Famine and pestilence and death and all the ugly brood 

Who ever yet have served the lords of war, 

And sent their hollow laughter echoing through the 

years, 
All these descended upon earth and ruled the world. 

Year of the Peace — can it be she who comes 
Not glory-garlanded and vaunting as of yore, 
But with cool hands and troubled eyes — 
Eyes that forever see and never can forget? — 
Can it be Peace, our Peace, we greet 
With the loud roar of joy and the long silences? 

Can it be peace, the day of old sure things? 
Shall we dare say "to-morrow" and not fear 
What that "to-morrow" brings? 
And shall we learn again 

[54] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

The old glad fear- free ways, 

The laughter and the carelessness 

Of those old days? 

Can it be possible 

Ever again to love and live 

As if we held the price in our own hands? 

Will men and women give 

The old allegiances, forget their tears, 

And build again — no more in minutes — but in years ? — 

A month, a week, you may be you no more! — 

And will the moment come when we shall dare 

Put by our memories, nor breathe a prayer 

Before the shrine of our old sorrows and our fears? 

This peace is sacrament, 

Before its bar 

Each must walk softly, for each bears his scar. 



[55] 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 



L'ENVOI 

When the time for parting comes and the day is on 

the wane, 
And the silent evening darkens over hill and over plain, 
And the earth holds no more sorrow, no more grief 

and no more pain, 
Shall we weary for the battle and the strife? 



When at last the trail is ending and the stars are grow- 
ing near, 

And we breathe the breath of conquest and the voices 
that we hear 

Are the Great Companions' voices that have hallowed 
year on year, 

Shall we know an instant's grieving as we pass ? 



Shall we pause a fleeting moment ere we grasp the 

eager hands, 
Take one last long look of wonder at the dimming of 

the lands, 
Love the earth one glowing moment ere we pass from 

its demands, 
Cull all beauty in its essence as we gaze? 



[56] 



t\ 17 % 



AN ACREAGE OF LYRIC 

Or with not one backward longing shall we leap the 

last abyss, 
Scale the highest crags glad-hearted, fearful only lest 

the bliss 
Of an earth-remembering instant should delay the 

Great Sun's kiss — 
Consuming us within the splendor of the Flame? 



[57] 




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